Coming undone
by jelenamichel
Summary: Tony spills his guts to Abby over drinks on a Friday night. TIVA.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them home before midnight.**

Tony DiNozzo was clockwatching. 8:04 and 23 seconds on a Friday night—three hours past when he'd hoped to leave the office for the week. The team had worked around the clock for the last four days on the kidnapping of a lieutenant. The case had cut Gibbs close to the bone; the lieutenant was a single mom to an 11-year-old girl. From the moment that nugget of information had been revealed, Tony, Ziva and McGee all knew what they were in for: Grumpy Gibbs to the power of 10. And Gibbs hadn't disappointed. He hadn't communicated in anything other than a deafening yell until the lieutenant had been found alive 12 hours ago, and Tony had a dull ache on the back of his head from a four-day slapfest.

Finding the lieutenant hadn't been the end of the case. She was alone when the team did their hero thing, so they still had to find the kidnapper. The information she'd provided helped them track down the bad guy in under an hour, and Tony, Ziva and McGee had barged into his mother's house with guns drawn and Gibbs frothing at the mouth. But when he resisted arrest and became violent, it was Ziva who got to unleash her crazy ninja skills on his unsuspecting (and suddenly very sorry) ass.

Back in the squad room, Tony smirked at his computer screen. On one hand, he hated it when Ziva threw herself into hand-to-hand combat, especially when there were guns around. But on the other hand, sweet baby Jesus how he loved it. He would never get over the pure entertainment value of watching a 5'7, 100lb woman take down 6'5 slabs of muscle with the flick of a well-placed wrist. The fact probably said more about his twisted psyche than anything, but he knew he wasn't alone. They'd never say it, but McGee and Gibbs would always take front row seats to see her in her element.

Ziva David: crazy, hot and dangerous to know.

"What are you smirking at, Tony?" the woman herself asked in her slightly accented English.

Tony looked across the dim office at his partner. Just as he expected, she was smirking herself. Tony had gotten used to seeing that look in the last four years. Usually he tried to resist it so he could get one up on her. Tonight, he didn't bother.

"Thinking of a movie, Zeevah," he replied, drawing her name out in the way that always caused her eyes to narrow. "_The Big Sleep_ on TCM tonight." He made a show of looking at his watch and raised his voice so Gibbs could hear. "I'd planned on watching it, but I don't think I'll be home in time."

"Wow. You're admitting to spending your Friday night alone?" McGee piped up, sharing a raised eyebrow with Ziva. "You must be really tired."

Tony shot him a stony look. "Who said anything about watching alone, McNosey?"

"Beer doesn't count as another person," McGee returned. Ziva snorted.

"Then what are you doing hanging around here, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

Tony blinked in surprise at the intended meaning. "I…paperwork, boss."

"You're not done with it yet?"

Tony looked at his files. Were they good enough to hand over to Gibbs? "Just finished," he said cheerily.

Gibbs took a long draw on his fifth jumbo coffee of the day. "Then get out of here."

Tony looked from Gibbs to a frowning McGee, then an indignant Ziva. He shrugged at them like the situation was completely out of his hands, grabbed his backpack and was on his feet in two seconds. "Thanks, boss."

He dropped his paperwork file on Gibbs' desk and prepared to literally moonwalk out of the room before Gibbs spoke up again.

"After you go downstairs and find out if Abby's finished working on her fibre analysis report."

Tony's smile dropped a little. Of course he was never going to get out of there scott free while the others were left working. Still, on the scale of jobs Gibbs had forced him to do as punishment over the years, spending some time with Abby in her lab was pretty weak.

"On it, boss!" he boomed, then headed for the elevator. He'd be on his way home in five minutes.

Tony could hear the music blaring out of Abby's lab before the elevator doors even opened. When they did, the wall of sound that hit him made him wince, then grin. Abby had worked at NCIS longer than he had, but she still refused to toe the Navy line. The fact that she got away with it said a lot about how great she was at her job, and how well liked she was by the big bosses.

He found her at one of her computers in the lab's inner chamber. The doors swooshed open, but Abby gave no indication that she'd heard or seen him come in.

"Abby!" he yelled over the music.

Abby jumped and spun around, pigtails flying as she grabbed a stapler off her desk and took aim. Tony's arms flew up to protect his head and he dropped to his knees to escape the fine of fire. Ziva may have been the ninja, but he didn't underestimate what Abby was capable of.

Abby recognised his cowering form and turned down the music. "Tony, I could have maimed you! Don't sneak up on people."

Tony slowly stood up straight again, ignoring the creaks and pops in his joints. "Sorry, Abs. Gibbs sent me down to too his lab work. He wants to know if you're done with your report on the fibres."

Abby tilted her head to the side and replied slowly, like she was trying to work out if this was a joke. "Why, yes, Tony. I finished it an hour ago and sent it up. Didn't Gibbs tell you?"

Tony paused as he churned the information. Of course Gibbs had it. Sending Tony down to check was just another head slap for wanting to leave before the others. "I must have misunderstood," he told her. There was no point whining to Abby about Gibbs unless he really did want that stapler to hit him in the face.

He picked up the phone on Abby's desk and hit Gibbs' speed dial. While it rang, he smirked at Abby's choice of footwear for the day. Over-the-knee lace-up PVC boots with what had to be about a 4" platform.

"So, how tall are you, Abs?" he teased. "Barefoot, I mean."

In response, Abby kicked him in the shin. He cried out just as Gibbs answered. "Ahh…hey Gibbs. Just down here with Abby. She said she sent you that report already."

Gibbs feigned surprise. "Well, how about that, DiNozzo. It's right here in my inbox."

"How about that," Tony repeated.

Gibbs hung up without further comment, which Tony took to mean he was now excused for the day.

"You going home?" Abby asked.

"DiNozzo is leaving the building," he confirmed.

"Where's DiNozzo heading? Got a hot date?"

Tony smiled his Joker smile. "Never can tell."

"Does that mean no?"

His smile dropped. "Yes. It means no."

"Want to go down to Filthy's?"

His smile reappeared at the mention of the Gibblets' favourite bar. He clicked his fingers and pointed at her. "Let's do that."

Abby clapped her hands. "Okay. I just gotta visit the little girls' room." She jumped off her chair and Tony watched her toddle off out of the lab as fast as her boots would let her. He took her seat and killed time spinning and rolling around the lab.

Abby took a couple of minutes in the bathroom to fix her lipstick and hair before dashing back to the lab. It'd been a hard week for the whole team, with longer than long hours and extra super duty stress levels, and what she really wanted now was to chill out with buddies and beer. She hoped Ziva and McGee would be up for it. She wouldn't even bother trying to convince Ducky or Gibbs. As soon as he left the building, Gibbs would be thinking of nothing but his boat and hard liquor. In fact, he'd probably been thinking of them since lunchtime. Yesterday.

She rounded the corner into her lab and spotted Tony standing by the windows, staring at the wall. Abby craned her neck to look past him, expecting to see a half naked co-ed somewhere. Then she saw it. His attention was indeed fixed on a woman—a photo of Ziva that Abby had taken with her phone and put on the wall with all the others. Abby's eyes widened for a moment, then she fought the urge to giggle gleefully.

Abby knew that Tony loved Ziva. She also knew that Ziva loved Tony. She wasn't sure if either of _them_ knew they were in love. In fact, she'd bet a month of CafPow that they were both trying to live in their very own denial bubble. But Abby did not live in that bubble. She knew what was going on. And suddenly here was Tony, gazing—and that was really the only word for it—at Ziva with a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Had he really worked it all out? She'd been sure that Ziva would be the first to wake up to the fact.

Man, she couldn't wait to get some booze in him now.

She made some noise as she walked further into the lab, trying to give him fair warning, and shrugged off her lab coat. "Ready for some tequila shots, Special Agent DiNozzo?"

By the time she looked at him again, he was facing her, smiling his lady killer smile and looking totally composed. "Let's blow this joint."

He offered her his arm and Abby took it. As they left the lab, she smacked him lightly and said, "Don't make bomb jokes, Tony."

**Chapter 2 coming soon**…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them home before midnight.**

**A/N: Thanks to all the lovely people who left comments on chapter one. Keep 'em coming!**

Tony headed for the bar to grab the first round of drinks while Abby prowled Filthy's for a table. She spotted one over the far side of the room, halfway between the bar and the stage, and pushed through the crowd just in time to beat a group of corporate suits. She recognised them as regulars, and she returned their irritated looks with a friendly smile and a finger wave. She scooted around to the back of the booth and dumped her bag at her feet. While she waited, her fingers traced a deep, four-inch dent in the aluminium tabletop. She smirked—this was the table they'd had the first night they'd convinced McGee to get up and do karaoke. Tony'd made the dent with his fist during some overenthusiastic and drunken cheering. They hadn't realised how bad he'd hurt himself until the next day when it swelled up to twice its size. Still, it was only his left hand so the injury hadn't impacted his lifestyle much.

Tony pushed through the throng of people, barely looking at the dozen or so beautiful young things he passed on the way, and made it to the table with nary a hair out of place. Abby gave him a huge smile of approval when she saw that he wasn't just double fisting, but quadruple fisting.

"I had great admiration for your time management skills," she told him.

He put two bottle of beer in front of her, two beside her, and slid in to the booth. "I'm also extremely dexterous," he pointed out.

"That's the rumour," she threw back. "Are you going to sing with me tonight?"

"What're you thinking?"

"Maybe some Kenny and Dolly."

"_Islands in the Stream_. I think the corn level on that one is appropriate for this venue." He pointed at his beer. "After another five or six of these."

They shared a smile and she clinked her bottle against his. "Cheers."

Half an hour later and two drinks down, Tony headed for the bar again and Abby decided it was high time to get McGee and Ziva out of the office. She pulled out her cell and tipsy-dialled McGee.

"Abby," McGee said by way of greeting.

"McGee!" Abby exclaimed. "How are you?"

"Not as merry as you."

"I'm always merry," she pointed out. "Except for when I'm not. And that's usually because one of my team is particularly unmerry."

"Then we must all be very merry right now."

"Want to be merrier?"

There was a cautious pause. "Uh…"

"Are you and Ziva still at work?"

"Yes, and you can thank Tony for that."

"Usually I'd be on your side, Tim," she said. "But Tony's performing buddy duties to a T down at Filthy's. When can you and Ziva come join us?"

"Hang on," he said, then put his hand over the phone to muffle the conversation he was having at the office. Abby nodded her head to the music and finished her beer while she waited. "Half an hour," McGee finally replied.

"We'll have your drinks ready on the table," Abby promised, then hung up.

When Tony returned this time, he was carrying a service tray loaded with another four beers, a bottle of tequila, four shot glasses, some lemon wedges and a salt shaker.

"You're my favourite," Abby cooed as he slid in beside her again and unloaded two beers and a shot glass in front of her.

"Never let it be said that Anthony DiNozzo doesn't know how to make a lady happy."

Abby grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured two shots. "McGee and Ziva will be here in a half hour."

Tony snorted as he shook salt on his thumb and grabbed a wedge of lemon. "Ziva," he said flatly, then licked his thumb and threw back a shot in tandem with Abby. He held back the wince better than her (for now), and sucked on the lemon. "That's a lady I can't make happy."

Abby eyed him. Was he going to open up without even the slightest hint of Abby's special puppy dog eyes? Just in case, she poured him another shot and they threw them back.

"That's a strange thing to say," she said, her face contorting momentarily with the taste of tequila. "I thought everything was great in Special Agent land."

Tony shook his head and smiled ruefully. "They are not completely great."

"Is Ziva mad at you? She didn't say anything to me. Usually she says something to me. Actually, usually she doesn't _have to_ say anything to me." She took a breath. "Usually I know when she's got a problem with you."

Tony thumped his chest. "_I've_ got a problem."

Abby made a face. "With Ziva? I know she gets in your space sometimes, but she's only giving back what you dish out."

Tony smiled affectionately. "I know. And she does it way better than me."

Abby pointed at him. "You're just not used to being intimidated."

His smile got bigger. "I'm not. But she's _really_ good at that."

"And that's giving you a problem?" Geez, hypocrite much?

Tony's smile fell, and he looked at Abby with his most serious face. She stared back, wide-eyed and open. He leant in closer, as if trying to shut out the rest of the bar. "You've got to promise me, Abs," he began. "You have to swear yourself to secrecy. No talking about it, no emailing about it, no Twittering about it, no posting videos online, no writing it down, and definitely no hand signing to Gibbs. Just you and me, okay? Because I'm probably only spilling my guts cuz I'm drunk, and I may regret it tomorrow."

"You're not going to literally spill your guts, are you?" Abby checked, counting the empty bottles on the table. "Because that would be gross. And it would make you a total lightweight."

"No. Not literally."

Abby held up her little finger. "Pinky swear. It'll go in the vault."

Tony looped his pinky into hers and they shook on it. "Okay." He did another shot, chased it with a gulp of beer, then turned his body towards her and unloaded with a passion Abby wasn't expecting.

"She's driving me crazy, man!" he began. "I don't know how to handle it. I think about her all the time. I go for a run, I think of Ziva. I watch a movie, I think about Ziva. I'm standing over a dead guy, I'm thinking about Ziva. If I go on a date—which is becoming an appallingly rare event—I think about Ziva. I talk about Ziva. I can't take anyone home with me because I'm distracted by Ziva."

His hands started flying everywhere as he tried to make his point, and Abby carefully moved the bottles of tequila and beer out of range. "She's in my head, Abs, and I can't get her out. I want to talk to her all the time. I want to see her all the time. I want to be with her out in the field. I want to be with her back in the office. I want to be with her every minute."

He paused to take a breath, and while he looked like he was on the verge of tears, Abby was now smiling dreamily. "I want to rile her up all the time because it makes her get right up in my space. And then I can feel her and smell her…" He sighed as he hit another thought. "I smell her all the time. She's in my clothes, she's in my skin. I smell her on my freaking pillow every day, even though she's never been in my bedroom." He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. "I can't stand it. She's all over me."

When he stayed silent for a few seconds, Abby cleared her throat daintily. "Well. Okay. So, what do you want from her?"

Tony looked at her from the corner of his eye, jaw so tense it looked ready to pop. "Her skin. Against mine."

One of Abby's eyebrows shot up. "Hot. But…just once? Casually? A little more frequently?"

"Every. Single. Day," he stated. "For the term of my natural life."

Abby's smile lit up her face. "You're in love with her. I knew it! I knew it was more than flirting."

Instead of smiling, Tony pitched forward and deliberately smacked his forehead against the table. It took him a while to work up the courage, but eventually he said it. "Yeah. I think I am, Abs. I swore it'd never happen to me, but she got to me when I wasn't looking. Damn her crazy Israeli spy skills."

Abby hugged his arm and brought him upright again. "Tony? I don't know if this has occurred to you yet, but this is good news. Really."

"No, I don't think it is."

"Why not?"

Tony found his beer and took another long draw from it. He mimicked Ducky when he replied, "Because, Abigail, there is nothing more pathetic than unrequited love."

"Tony!" she exclaimed, then smacked his head. "There is nothing unrequited about it. She's got DiNozzo fever bad. It's a terminal case."

Tony looked down at the top of her head. "Really? Did she tell you that?"

"No," she admitted, trying not to laugh at how much of a 16-year-old girl he was being right now. "But it's obvious. Isn't it to you?"

"No," he replied. "I mean, she flirts back with me, but that's just because…" he trailed off as he tried to think of a reason. "I make her, I guess."

"Trust me," Abby said confidently. "It's because she's warm and tingly for you too."

Tony thought for a moment, head swimming with this shocking news and more than a little booze. "Suppose you're right. That just makes it worse. Because we really would have to deal with rule number 12."

Abby crinkled her nose. "Stupid rule. I mean, the others are all pretty solid. But that one?" She shook her head. "The heart wants what it wants, rules be damned. But you know what? Me and McGee broke rule 12, and it was fine. No one cared. You didn't care, Kate didn't care, Gibbs didn't care."

"Good point," Tony allowed. "But I don't think Gibbs would be very okay with this. We work three feet away from each other for 10 hours a day. Also, you're Gibbs' favourite. He'll forgive you anything."

Abby smiled angelically. "That's totally true. But I think you'd be surprised at how much he'd forgive you as well, Tony."

"He wouldn't forgive breakage of rule 12," Tony said flatly.

Abby frowned. She wouldn't stand for Gibbs blocking her new favourite union. "I'll find an answer. Just let me think about it for a day or two."

A waiter appeared at the table and picked up their two empty beer bottles. That meant table service had begun for the night, and karaoke would soon follow. Tony pulled out $50 and put it on the waiter's tray. "We're gonna need beer all night."

"And Skittles," Abby added.

**Chapter 3, coming right up…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them home before midnight.**

At 11:30, Gibbs set out from NCIS in search for more coffee. The case reports were almost done. Truthfully, he only had a few cross checks left to do and they could wait until the morning. But Gibbs wanted this case done and off his desk. It had left a bad taste in his mouth.

He pulled his jacket up around his ears as he turned north a few blocks from the base. Winter was coming and the wind was much chillier than even a week ago. It wouldn't be long before DiNozzo came down with the flu. He always did at this time of year, ever since he had the plague. Once Tony finally succumbed to the latest super bug, Ziva would follow about a week later. Then McGee. Gibbs knew he'd be fine. He never got sick. What was it with kids today?

He hit the block that he knew had a café that stayed open until the bars closed. This street was full of bars, including the one he knew his agents liked to frequent. As he passed it, he looked through the window…then stopped dead in his tracks. Up on stage, screaming into a microphone with his shirt open at the neck and sleeves rolled up was Tim McGee. Gibbs stared at the scene impassively for a moment, then found himself opening the door to the bar and taking a few steps inside. He couldn't recognise the song, but the cheering crowd seemed to. Gibbs winced at the noise coming out of McGee's mouth and looked around.

As he expected, the rest of his agents were there in the crowd. He saw Tony first, then noticed the woman he held against his chest. Ziva, her hair out and catching on Tony's shirt as she swayed to the song. Tony's arm was slung around her chest, his other holding a beer skyward. Ziva held Tony's arm against her with one hand, and a beer and Abby's hand in her other. Abby happily spun under Ziva's arm, and all three of them were crying with laughter and cheering McGee on.

The tiny smile Gibbs had indulged in fell quickly. Damn it, he wished he hadn't seen that. Quickly, he left the bar and stomped off towards the café. _Rule 12_, he thought. He had a damn rule about this stuff. It was very specific and easy to follow. Don't date a co-worker. It existed for a good reason, and Gibbs did not want to deal with the fallout if it all went to hell. He did not want to manage two people in this job who could no longer stand to look at each other. And he didn't want to kick either of them off the team. That's why there was a rule.

"Damn it, you two!" he muttered.

He placed his order for a jumbo long black and quietly stewed while he waited. When stewing didn't make him feel better, he tried to look at it from another angle.

The fact was, he loved Tony and Ziva both like they were his kids. The same went for Abby and McGee. He wanted them all to be happy, and to find someone they could love as much as he'd loved Shannon. And if he was going to look at this development as a friend, not a boss, he had to admit that half the reason Tony and Ziva were a truly great team was because they were happy together. They were suited to one another, possessing qualities that complemented the other. Any idiot could see that. If he weren't their boss, he could honestly say that he'd encourage a more personal partnership. But Gibbs was their boss, and he didn't see a way he could let this happen.

His order came up and Gibbs left the café in an even worse mood. He didn't want to be the bad guy on this one, but he didn't see that he had any other choice.

When he passed the bar again, he made himself look through the window. This time he saw Tony standing on a table with the microphone. Gibbs rolled his eyes. Typical DiNozzo. A stage wasn't enough for him; he needed a _table_ on a stage. As he headed back up the street and on towards the base, he prayed to God that none of them were carrying their weapons. Or worse: their NCIS IDs.

"Idiots."

**Chapter 4 coming up…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them home before midnight.**

Inside the bar, Tony basked in the attention he was getting as he reached the final epic lines of _My Way_. Finally, he hit the last note, arms raised to the ceiling as he encouraged the cheers, then flipped the microphone in his hand as a cheer erupted from the floor. He smiled his Joker smile then jumped off the table, managing to avoid breaking a kneecap, ankle, floorboard or glass. He did a victory run through the crowd on his way back to the booth.

"Natural born entertainer," Abby yelled to Ziva over the din. Ziva could only nod. Really, what else was there to say?

The victory lap came to an end and Tony dropped heavily into the booth, his shoulder colliding with Ziva's.

"And I'm done," he announced. He grabbed the drink out of Ziva's hand, took a gulp and then handed it back.

Ziva eyeballed the tainted cocktail for a moment, but was in no position to refuse it back. "We can only hope," she told him.

He flashed her a smile then leaned in to her so that his face was only a shoulder's length from hers. "_You_ still owe us a song, Zeevah," he pointed out. "Abby killed it on Ella Fitzgerald, McGee murdered George Michael, and I elevated Frank to a level he's never seen. Plus, don't forget the show stopping duet by me and Ms Scuito."

"I don't think I'll ever forget it," Ziva threw back.

"What're you going to do?"

Ziva leaned closer, fully aware of the effect invading his personal space had on him. "Any special requests, Tony?"

Six beers and six shots down, Tony didn't give a thought to flashing the smile that'd gotten him into countless beds over the years. "Well, yeah. But nothing you can do from the stage."

Ziva leaned even closer. "Shall I surprise you, then?"

Tony felt her breath on his cheek as she held his gaze, unflinching. Was she teasing or encouraging? Tony was in no state to make a judgement call on that.

Ziva saw him tense up. Had she gone too far? "Are you alright?"

Tony shook his head quickly, as if to clear it. "Yeah, just waiting for a slap."

She decided to take it one more step, and put her mouth to his ear. "Later, Tony. If you're good." She pecked his cheek quickly, then abruptly pulled away and crawled over his lap to get out of the booth.

Tony watched her go, vaguely aware that he may be drooling right now. He wasn't ready when she turned around again and gestured for him to follow her.

"Are you going to help me carry the next round, or what?"

Right now, Tony thought he'd probably carry 50 pounds of cocaine through JFK if she asked. "I'm so screwed," he muttered, sighing as if it were inevitable now that he'd spend the rest of his life chasing her and begging for attention. He jumped out of the booth and obediently followed.

On the other side of the booth, McGee turned to Abby. "Do you think he has _any_ idea that he's looking at her like that?"

"Hard to tell," Abby replied.

"Is _she_ aware that he's looking at her like that?"

"Definitely."

McGee shook his head solemnly. "Gibbs is going to kill them."

Abby shifted so that she could lean against the wall and look at McGee at the same time. "They won't break the rules. They'll ask for permission."

McGee almost choked on his beer. "Are you kidding? We're talking about Anthony DiNozzo."

"Tony would not break Gibbs' rules," Abby defended. She was aware that she was beginning to slur her words, but damn it, she would fight the charge.

"I meant because Tony won't be able to help himself," McGee said. He noticed the slurring and pushed a half-eaten bag of Skittles towards her. "He doesn't always think with the right head when I comes to women."

Abby started getting worked up. "Timmy, this is kind of different to all those other times."

"Why? Because they work together?" He shook his head, but received a head slap.

"No, McGee," Abby said, getting irritated. "Because he loves her. Ziva's not another notch to him. She's the one, you know? Buttercup to his Westley." As soon as the words were spoken, she slapped her hands over her mouth to try to force them back in. "Oh my God, Tony's gonna kill me! He swore me to secrecy, and I just blurted it out." She grabbed McGee's shirt in her hand and pulled him in to her, then stuck a finger in his face. "If you say a word to him, I will come after you. Do you hear me? I know where you live and I've seen where you sleep. Don't test me on this."

McGee blinked at how scary Abby had suddenly become. He believed every word. "I won't test you. I believe you. I won't say anything to anyone."

"You'd better not," Abby growled.

McGee nodded. "Can you please let go? You're ripping hair out of my chest."

Abby released her grip and then threw back the last of her drink. McGee considered the information that came before the threat.

"He really loves her?" he repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Duh, McGee. It's obvious."

"I know they flirt," McGee allowed. "I mean they hardly ever come up for air. I just didn't think that…He loves her. Really?" He was still going to take some convincing.

Abby tapped her fingertip on the table authoritatively. "You mark my words, McGee, at…" she checked her watch, "12.07am on Saturday, November second. It's gonna be _on_."

"But one of them would have to quit the team," McGee pointed out. "Rule 12." He sounded about as pleased by the idea as Abby was. "We just got back together again."

Abby nodded. "I know. I'm working on a plan to deal with Gibbs. Because we all have to stay together. That's not negotiable." She started muttering to herself. "Gibbs and his stupid rules. They're no good for Tony and Ziva."

"Why are _you_ working on a plan?" McGee asked.

Abby snorted and rolled her eyes. "Think, McGee. If we left it to Tony and Ziva? Disaster. I'm doing us all a favour."

McGee considered how Tony would go about breaking the news to Gibbs. Nightmare. "Godspeed, Scuito."

Chapter 5 on its way… 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them home before midnight.**

**A/N: Once again a huge thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read and review. This is only the second story I've posted, and I'm already totally addicted to your comments. You guys are my crack!**

If Tony weren't quite so drunk, he was sure he would have done a better job of pretending to watch the guy on stage belt out Donna Summer's _No More Tears._ But he was drunk—more than quite a bit, in fact—and he began to wonder just how deranged he must look while trying to keep one eye on the singer and the other firmly on Ziva and Abby dancing on the edge of the dance floor. It was inappropriate, he supposed, to be ogling his co-workers as they gyrated against each other. Not as inappropriate as being one of the gyrators, of course. But he couldn't help feeling just a little bit guilty. As far as Tony was concerned (not to mention the nuns who had caned him almost every day in school), if something truly made him feel as good as he did right now, it was probably a breach of the Ten Commandments.

Beside him, McGee was thinking more or less along the same lines. "Why is it," he slurred, "that girls can do that? How can they dance together like that and not have to explain themselves? Why don't they ever have a conversation about it first?" He raised his voice a pitch higher. "Hey! I'm about to basically hump you, but it's just dancing, okay? You cool with that?"

Tony didn't reply immediately. All his brain cells were currently occupied with making himself sit still as Ziva and Abby stood face-to-face, half an inch apart, and rolled their hips in time as they danced with energy Tony did not understand. Neither of them had slept in over a day, all Ziva had eaten was two bites of Tony's burger at lunch, and they'd both downed enough beer and tequila to impress The Rolling Stones. How was it physically possible that they were conscious, let alone standing up and moving that fast?

"They're girls, McGee," Tony finally replied. "It's knowledge they're born with. Just watch and be thankful."

McGee looked around the dance floor. There were at least six more pairs of women who had all been born with the same information. He thought back to high school. He doubted he went to even a quarter of the parties held in senior year, but each one he did brave was full of girls grinding against each other. It didn't matter what the song was—anything from Nirvana grunge to Salt 'n Pepa hip-hop to Janet Jackson pop. They'd use it to get the attention of the boys. But right now, McGee doubted that Abby or Ziva was devoting a single thought to anything but having fun.

The disco track wound up and the next karaoke queen brought the mood right down with a tribute to Coldplay. Abby shot a look of utter disgust at the stage.

"What?" she spat. "This isn't karaoke music. This guy doesn't have a clue how it's supposed to be done."

Ziva rolled her neck. "I could use some fresh air anyway."

Abby took Ziva's hand and spun on her heel, then dragged her back to the table. She stood in front of Tony, put one hand on her hip, and pointed accusingly at the stage with the other. "What the hell is this?" she demanded of him.

Tony shook his head, like he couldn't believe it either. "Obviously a complete amateur."

"Isn't that the point of karaoke?" McGee asked. "That people are amateurs?"

"No!" Abby and Tony cried.

"It's about the _music_, man," Tony tried to explain. "Choosing the right song for the right person and the right crowd."

"It's science," Abby stated. She pointed over her shoulder at the stage. "This is not science. This is…" She trailed off and looked to Tony for help.

"Sappy," Tony spat.

McGee looked to Ziva, who could only shrug and giggle in reply. She leant over Tony to grab her coat and half-finished mojito.

"We'll be outside," she told them. "Getting some fresh air and protesting this song choice."

They found a thin window ledge to sit on outside the bar, and Ziva carefully placed her drink on the ground before jamming her arms into her coat. She wasn't yet drunk enough to not care about the cold. Abby squeezed onto the ledge next to her, cursing her tartan miniskirt for leaving acres of skin on her thighs bare.

Ziva waved a hand in the vague direction of the bar. "This? This should happen more than it does." She suddenly hiccuped and held her breath for a moment until the scare of vomiting had passed. "It does not happen nearly as much as it should."

Abby nodded, and began talking even faster than normal. "I looove being with you guys! I love seeing Tim, and I'm so glad it didn't get totally weird and squirmy when we broke up. And I love seeing Tony. He's, like, my most favourite brother ever."

"I didn't know you had brothers," Ziva said, barely keeping up with what Abby was saying.

"I don't," Abby said. "But if I did, and if Tony was one of them, he'd totally be my favourite."

Ziva giggled at the caveats of the statement. "You already behave like siblings."

"And you!" Abby continued, swivelling to point a finger at Ziva. The quick motion caused her to almost slip off the ledge, but Ziva caught her before she fell too far. If Abby noticed, she didn't let on. "I _did not_ like you one little bit when you arrived."

"I noticed."

"But now I love you!" she said, melting into a smile. "And I love hanging out with you, and we really, really have to do this more often, Ziva. I'm serious. I couldn't be more serious. This is…this is, like, one of the things…" She struggled hard to find the right words, but in the end she didn't have the energy. "It's serious."

"Agreed."

"You gonna sing soon?"

Ziva laughed and threw her head back. She barely felt the 'thunk' as her skull hit the glass window. "Did you and Tony make a bet of some kind?"

Abby's eyes rolled back as she tried to remember. "Uh, we made a bet on Tuesday that Tony could get McGee to try on Gibbs' jacket. But nothing since then."

"Ohhhh!" Ziva sang. "So that's why…Okay, well that explains Tuesday afternoon for me."

"Why'd you ask?"

Ziva smiled. "He's been on me all night."

"_At_ you," Abby automatically corrected. Or maybe not, she thought. She'd seen him getting cuddly while McGee was singing.

"He's been persistent. I had wondered if he was planning something."

Abby snorted. "Ziva, I'm pretty sure the guy just wants to see you on stage. He likes watching you." She added the last comment as casually as possible. She was only pushing a little. Just to test the waters.

Ziva laughed. "I had noticed that, too."

Abby leaned in and lowered her voice to gossip level. "You're not creeped out by it, are you?"

"Not usually," Ziva shrugged. "It makes teasing him so much easier. I like making him squirm. It entertains me."

Abby rolled her eyes so hard she almost fell off the ledge again. They _so_ deserved each other. "So, does that mean you're gonna start pulling each other's hair and slapping one another—" She realised what she was saying. "Oh. Never mind." They already demonstrated that behaviour daily.

"Tell me," Ziva said. "Do all workplaces in America encourage head slapping and practical jokes?"

Abby twisted her lips. "Uh, no. It's actively discouraged, even within NCIS. But our team is kind of rebellious, I guess. Or, you know, in complete violation of workplace laws. One or the other."

"I thought so." Ziva took another few sips of her cocktail.

At the lull in conversation, Abby had a brief moment to strategise. She had Tony on board for a plan, as well as McGee. She knew she could twist Gibbs' arm somehow, but what she really needed now was to scope out how Ziva was feeling on the small issue of life eternal with her partner. She didn't doubt that Ziva was all for some down and dirty time right now, and she was almost positive that Ziva was thinking about things long term. But what Abby had said earlier about Tony being her favourite brother was true. She had a great big sweet and squishy spot for him. So before she could really devote some time to getting these two crazy kids together, Ziva had to convince her of something.

She took a deep breath and got right to the heart of it. "Ziva? Are you gonna just…play with him for a while and then let him go? Because that would be something that would make me not like you very much again."

Ziva's eyes went wide in surprise. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Are you going to break Tony's heart?" she asked, point blank.

Ziva shifted uncomfortably. "I do not think it's mine to break, Abby."

Her comment threw Abby for a second. Was Ziva still in the denial bubble? What the hell was the matter with her? Okay, new strategy. Work at things from the edges. "Tony's a lot more sensitive than he lets on," she said. "He doesn't let people into his life easily. I mean, he wants people close to him, but when that starts happening he freaks out. Look at his track record with women. It's not all bravado, Ziva."

"I know."

"But once he does let someone into his life, that's it for him. You're family. And Tony gives family his heart. Fully and unconditionally."

The corner of Ziva's mouth turned up with an affectionate smile. "I know that, too."

"It's kind of the best thing about him," Abby smiled. "So, I'd hate it if that changed about him because someone in his family played around with him too much." She looked Ziva in the eye. "If you can't love him fully and unconditionally back, Ziva, make it known. Now."

Ziva swallowed hard as she considered what she thought Abby was trying to say. "You don't need to worry, Abby. I won't break his heart."

Abby held her gaze for a few moments, looking for any sign of deceit or uncertainty. When she couldn't find one, she split into a huge grin. "I believe you."

Ziva was not so quick to smile. "Will he break mine, do you think?"

Abby didn't hesitate. "Not a chance."

She let herself smile indulgently for a moment as her stomach flopped. Even though Abby was in no position to make such promises, it was still a wonderful thing to hear. She cleared her throat and regained composure.

"Unless," she said, "I refuse to sing tonight. I have something in mind."

"Ooh, can't wait."

Five minutes later, when Ziva was halfway through a husky rendition of _Son of a Preacher Man_, Tony looked at Abby and cocked a single eyebrow. It was all he needed to do. Abby understood perfectly.

_How the hell am I supposed to keep resisting her?_

Abby winked and gave him a thumbs up in reply.

_I've got your back on this one_.

Tony heaved a hopeless sigh and looked back at the stage. He prayed to God that Abby could help steer him through this. Because now that his feelings were out there, now that he's said it aloud, everything had become alarmingly real. There was no denying it anymore as just a physical thing. He couldn't pretend that he was confusing their closeness as partners for something else. He couldn't press rewind and choose a different adventure. He was actually going to have to deal with this. And the only experience Tony had at dealing with real feelings for someone had been a complete and utter fuck up.

And as far as Tony was concerned, fucking things up with Ziva was not an option.

**Chapter six is coming soon…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them home before midnight.  
A/N: I actually have no idea whether Tony can play the guitar or not. But just go with it. It's not a big plot point. I need to find a character bible for this show...**

*******

At 3am, Abby's body finally gave up. The lack of sleep in the last two days, half dozen Caf-Pows and countless drinks that night had wiped her out and she couldn't fight to keep her eyes open any longer.

"Guys? You know how I hate being the first one to leave?"

"Yup," McGee nodded. Then kept nodding. He couldn't stop.

"Well, one of you is going to have to make the first move. Right now. Because it wouldn't be nice to make me break my last-one-standing winning streak."

McGee was happy to do the honours. He'd stopped drinking an hour ago when he started to believe that he might actually drown himself. He raised his hand and slurred, "I'm goin' home. Who wants to share a cab?"

Abby played along, and snorted. "I guess I will, if you insist on leaving."

McGee stared nodding again. "I insist."

Tony swung his head to Ziva, who was slumped in the booth beside him. She was still very much alert, but looked to be at the end of her night, too. "Want to split a cab?" They lived more or less in the same direction. Kind of.

"Mhmm."

Tony, Abby and Ziva slid out of the booth with their coats and bags, then turned to look at McGee. He hadn't moved, and looked completely wiped out.

"You coming, Tim?" Abby asked.

McGee nodded some more. "I'd like to, Abs. I really, really would. But I don't think these legs of mine can hold up these arms and torso of mine."

The other three looked at each other for a solution. Abby looked at them pointedly and motioned at McGee. They didn't expect _her_ to pull him out, did they? So Ziva and Tony both squeezed into one side of the booth, grabbed a McGee arm each, and pulled. McGee flopped like a fish, and Tony couldn't keep his grip.

"McGee, stop fighting us!"

"I'm not fighting!" he argued. "I'm helping."

"Stop helping!" Tony and Ziva said.

Finally they got him out, and he collapsed onto Ziva. She put all her weight against him, trying to keep them both upright, and then practically carried him out to the street. She and Tony wrestled him into a cab, avoided his thank you hugs, and then slammed the door on him. As the cab pulled away, Ziva bent over, braced her hands on her knees and tried to get her breath back.

Tony smacked her shoulder lightly. "You deserve a commendation for that."

Ziva slowly straightened up. "What I would really like right now is a kebab roll."

Tony perked up at the mention of food, and looked around to get his bearings. When he did, he grabbed Ziva's hand and pulled her down the street. Ziva scampered after him, trying to stay upright.

"Tony, stop!" she begged. "I can't walk this fast in heels after so much drinking."

He slowed his pace and threaded his fingers into hers. "There's a street vendor around here somewhere," he explained. "He does the best gyros and kebabs."

He turned left down a stinky, dark alley, and Ziva tried not to trip on broken crates and garbage. When they got to the next street, Ziva pulled back.

"Wait, wait. I have to take my shoes off."

Tony grimaced. "Ugh, Ziva. Don't do the drunk girl thing. You've got way too much class for that."

She pulled back harder and Tony finally stopped. She pointed down at her shoes. "Five inch stilettos, Tony. I would like to see you walk two feet in them."

He smiled. "Really? Because there's this video on YouTube I could show you." Ziva snorted, but Tony cut off whatever argument she was about to make. He pointed across the street. "Look, the stand's right there."

Ziva sighed and started walking again. This time, Tony led her at a more measured pace. He compared her shoes to Abby's platform boots, and honestly couldn't decide whose was more impractical. That being said, he'd seen Ziva run in heels before. And usually faster than him.

"How are you able to run in heels?" he asked seriously.

Deadpan, Ziva replied, "I took a class at Mossad."

He looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

Ziva couldn't keep a straight face, and she hugged him from the side as she laughed his name. He could only roll his eyes. Okay, she got him. But how was he to know what kind of crazy things went on over there?

He felt her shiver against his side as a gust of wind blew down the street. "You want my coat?" he asked.

Ziva shook her head. "Thank you, but you are the one who gets the flu at the beginning of every winter."

Tony shrugged. "It's just a battle wound," he said, nonchalant. "No big deal. I can handle it." He thumped his chest as if demonstrating just how tough his plague-scarred lungs were.

They took their order over to a bus stop bench and sat. Ziva ripped the wrapping off the top of her roll, then noticed Tony watching her.

"Are you going to watch me eat?"

"Just for a second."

She shot him a look—_whatever, you freak_—and bit into the roll. Without doubt, it was the best thing she'd tasted since the last time she'd been this drunk, and she groaned.

Tony smiled with satisfaction. "See? Worth running around in stilettos for, huh?"

Ziva said something that sounded vaguely agreeable around a mouthful of kebab. Tony stopped staring and ripped into his gyro.

They ate in comfortable silence, and Ziva's thoughts turned to her earlier conversation with Abby. Ziva has told her that Tony's heart was not hers to break, and Abby had alluded, in a roundabout sort of way, that it was. Honestly, Ziva had been surprised to hear it, and she wondered when that had changed.

When she'd first joined NCIS, there had been an immediate physical attraction. But it was an attraction that could be ignored. They were co-workers, so why make the workplace uncomfortable, just for a few hours of fun? After about a year, Ziva felt that things changed. They'd gotten to know each other. The physical attraction was still there, but the emotional and intellectual attraction had grown. She began thinking of him more often, and caring more about his happiness and sadness. But then he'd become involved with Jeanne, and it all changed. Although he was undercover, he had never the less developed strong feelings for her. Very strong. And as far as Ziva knew, he was still stinging from the way it had ended. He had not been himself for a while, she thought. He didn't date as much, and when he did, he refrained from going into the details the next day.

One thing Ziva did know was that her partnership with Tony was probably the closest relationship she'd had with another person, bar her younger sister. She couldn't think of one friendship, one other family relation, or one old relationship that came close. It was hard to tell where she fell in Tony's circle. Of course there had been Jeanne, and he was close to Gibbs and Abby. Even closer to McGee than he'd ever admit. But, Ziva allowed, he did seem to defer to her more than the others. And rely on her. Trust her. Give her more attention. But did that really mean anything? Perhaps they just a strange partnership. Or perhaps it was born out of the cultural differences they had.

She thought it was as plausible an explanation as any. But one thing she couldn't just explain away was the way he looked at her. She saw him flirt with witnesses and waitresses on an almost daily basis, but he never looked at them the way he looked at her, especially lately. There was just something so…longing in his expression. She wondered if she looked back at him the same way, with her feelings out on display. Perhaps, she thought, it was why he'd been looking at her tonight with what seemed to be an open invitation to touch him. To tease him.

Ziva's stomach tightened at the thought of what she could be about to get herself into. She looked up and again found his eyes on her. She held his gaze and made a decision—just like always with Tony, she'd give back what she got. At least until she could figure out what exactly was going on.

She took a final bite of her kebab, and then tossed the wrapper behind Tony's back into a trash bin. "Divine," she reviewed.

Tony seemed pleased by her assessment. "You didn't think I'd let you go hungry, did you Zeevah?" He shook his head. "That's not how DiNozzos are raised. We're Italian. We've been known to literally force-feed people if we think the situation calls for it."

She smirked as he tossed the rest of his gyro into the trash and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He pointed at her feet. "You going to be okay to walk to the next block to get a cab? I could carry you on my back, if you want."

She laughed, but stood up without assistance. "Thank you for your chivalry, Tony. But I can probably make it one more block."

***

On the corner of two main streets, Tony stood facing the west-bound traffic, his arm out to grab the attention of any cab that came their way. Not that he was looking at the traffic. His eyes were on Ziva's as she stood facing him, no more than a foot away. For the longest time they looked at each other silently as lone cars sped towards them then faded back into the night. He wondered if she had any clue how he felt, and decided that she had to. If not, she would have called him out on how weird he was being. And if she knew, did the fact that she hadn't already punched him in the face mean that she was not completely appalled by the idea? It had to, didn't it? Abby had sworn that Ziva had feelings for him, too. Abby would not knowingly lie to him. She didn't play with people like that. And anyway, she couldn't lie to save herself. Literally. She'd tried several times.

He leaned a little closer to her and realised that he could feel the heat radiating off her body. He could smell her shampoo. Damn it, that smell was killing him. His chest tightened with anticipation as his eyes flicked over her face. He skin looked to soft, her eyes so dark and heavy. And her mouth…Tony could remember what it was like to kiss her when they went undercover soon after she arrived at NCIS. Her kisses had been so much more passionate and rough than he'd expected, and by the end of their first night of trying to sell their cover, her lips had become swollen and red. God, he wanted to make that happen again. He wanted to feel her skin prickle under his mouth and hands. He wanted to feel her thighs tighten around his hips.

He wasn't aware of how close he'd gotten until he felt her breath on his neck when she spoke.

"Tony, what's going on tonight?" she asked, her voice low and uncertain.

His lips parted as he tried to think of something to say that wouldn't sound lame. The only direction he heard in his head was '_Shut up! Kiss her!_' over and over again. So he didn't say anything. Instead, his fingers found the hem of her jacket and he tugged her even closer, right up against him. She didn't resist.

He was just about to incline his head when a car horn blared next to them. They both nearly jumped out of their skin and flew apart. Moment broken.

The cab driver idling beside them yelled, "Hey! You want a ride or what?"

Ziva handled the scare by bursting into a fit of nervous, tipsy giggles. As soon as he worked out they weren't aimed at him, Tony joined her. He opened the back door for her and then slid in after her, and somehow managed to give the driver his address.

***

When the cab pulled up outside Tony's building, the two of them had mostly calmed down. Tony popped the door open.

"Sleep tight," Ziva told him.

With one foot out the door, it suddenly occurred to Tony what he was doing. He twisted back to look at her and announced, "I'm being a complete jerk."

Ziva frowned. "Uhhh…"

"I was about to leave you alone in a cab," he explained.

"So?"

"So, that's just wrong."

Ziva leaned over the seat towards him. "Tony, I trained with Mossad. I can probably protect myself against a cab driver." She met the driver's eye in the rear view mirror and winked. The driver quickly looked away.

"It's the principle, Ziva," Tony argued. "I would never let a woman get into a cab by herself at three in the morning."

Ziva's shoulders fell forward tiredly. "So you're going to escort me all the way to my place and then turn around and come straight back?" It sounded like so much effort.

It did to Tony as well. "No. You're going to stay at my place." He handed the driver $20 and then tugged Ziva's hand. She was too tired to argue, so she crawled across the seat and joined him on the sidewalk. He slung his arm around her shoulders, giving this physical closeness thing another go, and they carefully navigated their way up the steps to his building. Ziva tripped on an imaginary crack and groaned at herself.

"I know better than to try to keep up with Abby."

Tony unlocked the front door and held it open for her. "What I'd like to know is why I can't keep up with either of you when I spent five years in a frat house."

They got off the lift on the third floor, and Ziva slowly followed Tony down the hall to his apartment. She leant against the wall as he fumbled with his keys, and they both jumped when his cell started ringing. Tony swore and dropped the keys, then bent to pick them up as he pulled his cell phone out. Two seconds later, he was trying to jam his phone into the lock, and held the keys up to his ear.

"Yeah, DiNo—" He stopped when he realised what he was doing. "Oh, that's not right."

Beside him, Ziva started sliding down the wall from the exertion of laughing so much. The phone rang out before Tony could sort himself out, and he gave Ziva an embarrassed yet amused look. He held out a hand to help her up, but the phone started ringing again. This time he managed to flip it open and get it to his ear.

"DiNozzo," he answered, laughing.

"You made me call back," came Gibbs' voice back at him.

"Oh, hey, boss!" Tony said cheerily, then turned to Ziva. "It's boss."

Ziva curled her lip dismissively. "I don't wish to work tonight."

Tony slid down the wall and sat on the floor beside her. Still convulsing intermittently with giggles, Ziva rested her tired head on his shoulder. Tony instinctively put his arm around her again.

"We've got a dead marine in the Potomac," Gibbs was saying. "Round up the team and meet me on the west bank under Arlington Bridge in 20."

"Ohhh," Tony sang. "Oh, no. Boss, we've got a problem."

"You've been drinking," Gibbs guessed. He'd seen then all having a drink earlier in the night, but it sounded like that hadn't been the only one.

"Just a little," Tony downplayed, as he rested his cheek on the top of Ziva's head. "But not as much as Ziva. Or Abby. Prob'ly more than McGee, but he's waaay drunker than me. I mean, he couldn't even walk on his own, Gibbs. Ziva had to lift him into a cab."

"The 20 pounds he has lost made it easier," Ziva noted.

Gibbs heard Ziva over the line. "Ziva's with you, Tony?"

"Yep," Tony said, completely missing the tone in Gibbs' voice.

There was a moment of dead air over the line, and Tony wondered if he'd lost reception.

"Okay," Gibbs finally said, then hung up.

Tony brought the phone down to look at it. "He hung up on me. What does that mean? Do you think he wants us to come down?"

Ziva took the keys out of Tony's hand, then crawled around him to get to the door. "Did he yell?"

"No," he said, his eyes fixed on the exposed strip of skin on her lower back between her t-shirt and pants.

Ziva started trying keys in the lock. "Then no," she said. "If he calls back yelling, we'll have to sober up quickly." She found the right key and turned the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. "Tony, I think your door is broken."

"Deadlock," he said.

Ziva mouthed an '_oh_' to herself, then found the key to the deadlock. The door swung open, and she started shuffling forward on her knees. Tony used the wall to push himself to his feet and walked in behind her. Once he'd closed and locked the door, he helped her up. Ziva immediately kicked off her shoes and made a sound akin to a purring cat. Tony supposed that meant she felt a lot better. Their jackets came off and Tony pulled his shirt out of his pants.

"You want a shower?" he offered.

She shook her head no as she stretched her arms over her head. "Too tired."

Honestly, so was Tony. But he thought he probably needed a few minutes to himself to work out what the hell he was planning tonight, if anything. He led her through to his bedroom and gestured at nothing in particular.

"Make yourself at home."

He grabbed a pair of pj pants off his clean washing pile and continued through to the ensuite, where he made the shower as cold as he could stand in the hope that it would help him think clearly. He tried to assess the state of affairs: Okay, he'd almost kissed her before, and she hadn't seemed to mind. He'd been gazing at her all night, and she hadn't seemed to mind. He'd held her hand and had his arm around her almost continuously since they'd left the bar, and she hadn't seemed to mind. He was pushing their boundaries much further than either of them normally did, and so far it hadn't all gone to hell. Which was sweet.

But there was another voice in his head that was making a good point. Tonight was _not_ the best night. As much as he wanted to kiss her until her lips swelled, as much as he wanted to make her so crazy for him that she couldn't stop herself, he wouldn't be doing it tonight. He had to be on his best behaviour, and not seem to take advantage of her. He was drunk. Painfully so. And so was she. If he really didn't want to fuck things up, he could not make a real move on her until they both had clear heads. They both deserved that much.

When he walked back into the bedroom, he found that Ziva had most certainly made herself at home. She was already lying on the bed, on top of the covers, in the green t-shirt she'd worn all day and briefs. He sighed to himself. Best behaviour wasn't necessarily going to be easy when her ass was exposed like that. He tiptoed around the room in case she was already asleep, checked that the window was locked and drew the curtains. The sun was going to be a killer in the morning.

Before getting into bed, he let himself take a final look at her. She'd straightened her hair that day, but it had started to curl up again, and now it was in a dishevelled mess that caused a pang in his chest. Just as the sight of her relaxed face, bare feet and legs did. He realised that he was seeing Private Ziva. The person she probably was when she was alone. Devoid of vanity and yet probably sexier at this moment that he'd ever found her—and he fully remembered seeing her in a figure hugging green satin evening dress. It wasn't that she looked vulnerable. More that she looked…comfortable. With him and his house and his things. And he loved that.

Smiling to himself, Tony crawled onto the bed but then made the mistake of closing his eyes. The room immediately spun out of control, and he groaned in pain.

"Are you going to be sick?" Ziva asked, her voice almost gone now from too much drinking, laughing and yelling.

"Maybe," he admitted, opening his eyes.

"Let me know if you want me to hold your hair back while you throw up," she offered.

Tony laughed aloud at the teasing, then forgot everything he's promised himself just seconds ago. He leaned over to put his hand low on her back, and kissed her cheek. She could be so freaking cute sometimes, and it just killed him. He couldn't let it go unnoticed.

"I am your partner, yes?" Ziva said. "It's what a good partner would do."

He rubbed her back over her t-shirt. "Yeah, Zi. You're a good partner." He kept stroking her back, for longer than he should have, then came to his senses and pulled back. He knew he should let her sleep, but he wanted to talk to her. He _always_ wanted to talk to her.

"I didn't know you could sing."

"Everyone can sing," she pointed out.

"I didn't know you could sing _well_," he amended.

"I have many talents," Ziva replied.

Tony chuckled and opened his mouth without thinking. "Jesus, Ziva. You're always surprising me."

Ziva smiled, but kept her eyes closed. "I can also tango, play the piano, and assemble several makes of rifle in under ten seconds while blindfolded."

Tony rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Okay, this was getting ridiculous. What else could she possibly do to make him more crazy in love with her than he was already? She was Lara Croft and Salma Hayek rolled into one. A total fantasy.

He couldn't top what she'd offered, so he tried to make her laugh. "I can do a keg stand. Also while blindfolded." He made it sound as arrogant as possible, and it had the desired effect. Ziva opened her eyes then giggled so hard it made the bed shake. He flashed her his best, 'you can't help but love me' smile.

"Fine. You beat me," she conceded when she calmed down.

He played at being diplomatic. "Hey, hey. Come on, now. It's not a competition. We're just working out what skills our partner has so we don't double up. Now I know that I don't have to learn to tango. You've got that covered."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "So I needn't learn how to do a keg stand?"

He made a face. "Well, you don't _have_ to. But I can't deny that I'd respect you more if you did." She snorted. Then he thought of a skill he did have. "Actually, I also play guitar. I'm pretty good, too."

"When did you learn to do that?"

"Junior high. When I worked out that the chicks dug it."

She squinted at him while she worked something out. "Did you acquire all the skills you have in order to impress women?"

Tony thought about that. "Ummmostly. Yeah."

"The lengths you'll go to," she yawned. "Never let it be said that you wouldn't walk through fire and brimstone for a woman, Tony." She closed her eyes, and this time he let her sleep.

Fire and brimstone, he thought to himself. Yep, that was pretty much what it'd be like when he told Gibbs that he was knowingly breaking Rule 12. But for Ziva, he'd brave it.

***

**Final chapter is right around the corner…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them. I'll have them home before midnight.**

On Saturday afternoon, Abby put the final touches she needed on her dining room. She'd moved out all but two chairs, removed all the books, clocks, plants and other personal touches. She'd taken down the two big posters on the far wall, and replaced them with a series of photos. They were the only personal touch she wanted in the room, and she wanted to make sure they were seen.

Next, she brought out a pot of coffee and a box of jelly donuts. It's not like she wanted to appear inhospitable.

The knock on her door came at exactly 3pm. Abby smiled approvingly. Just like a marine. She took a final look at the room, decided to draw the curtains to filter the light annoyingly, then went to the door.

"Hey, Gibbs!" she chirped. "Thanks for coming."

Gibbs stepped into her apartment. "You okay, Abs?" he asked. She hadn't said much over the phone that morning, except that it was really important that he come over for afternoon tea.

"Yeah, great."

Gibbs took her word for it and looked around her living room. It was more cramped than normal, with dining chairs shoved in the corner and the skeleton of a coffin on the floor.

"Hey, the coffin's looking good." He crouched above it and ran expert fingers over the grain. "You using regular timber for this?"

Behind him, Abby rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. She didn't care about the freaking coffin. It only existed to sell a story. "Uh, yeah. I guess. It's what the hardware store gave me."

"Are you actually going to use it?" he asked. "Because if you are, you should probably sand it back a bit more and treat it."

"Okay, thanks for the tip," she replied. "Come have a seat."

She led him through to the dining room, which would be playing the part of an interrogation room this afternoon. She pulled out a chair facing the photos on the far wall for Gibbs, then sat down opposite him. Gibbs' face showed his puzzlement as he looked around the sparse, dark room, but he took a seat anyway.

"Been doing bit of redecorating?" he asked.

"Just trying out something new," she replied. She watched his eyes skim around the room before settling on the photos tacked to the wall behind her. Abby smiled. _Interview begins at 3.02pm_, she thought to herself.

"You want some coffee?" she offered, then poured him a cup without waiting for an answer. It was a totally unnecessary question. She slid the cup over and Gibbs picked it up. He took a long draw and gulped it down.

"It's good, isn't it?" she said.

Gibbs inhaled the delicious aroma as the caffeine entered his veins. "It's great."

"Ziva's favourite blend," she said casually. "Donut?"

Gibbs took one enthusiastically and bit in.

"These are Tony's favourite kind," she told him. "They go well together, don't they?"

Gibbs looked at her askance with a mouth full of donut. The purpose of this afternoon tea was becoming clearer. The empty room with dim lighting. The seating arrangements. Tony's donuts and Ziva's coffee. Photos of the team positioned directly behind Abby at eye level.

He swallowed the donut and cleared his throat. "What's on your mind, Abs?"

Abby rested her chin on her hand and looked off into the middle distance with a smile. She kept her voice light and casual. Nothing to get nervous or defensive about. "I've just been thinking about how lucky I am. I have a job I love, and I get to go to work every day with my favourite people. Not many people can say that."

"No, I don't suppose they can."

"Can you?" she asked him.

Gibbs was momentarily surprised that she asked, before realising this was part of whatever act she was putting on. But he was tiring of it. "Abby. What do you want to talk about?"

"Tony and Ziva," she said, getting to the point. "And Rule 12."

Gibbs leaned back in his chair and heaved a heavy sigh. After seeing them in the bar last night, and his phone call with Tony in the early hours of the morning, Gibbs had slept on it. When he woke, he had just about convinced himself that he might have it all wrong. Maybe he'd mistaken innocent exchanges between partners and friends as something else.

But now that Abby had not only brought him to her apartment to talk about it, but gone to the trouble of making her own interrogation room, Gibbs knew he'd been right the first time.

"Abby, the rule exists for a good reason," he said levelly.

Abby held up a finger to stop him. "Ah, but is it a rule, or merely a guide?"

"It's a rule," Gibbs confirmed. "Number 12, to be specific."

Abby smiled slowly and leaned forward. Gibbs got the feeling that he was saying everything she wanted him to say. Where the hell was she going with this?

"Really? So…that means _you_ broke Rule 12 when you started seeing Lieutenant Colonel Mann? Then worked closely with her on a case under the direction of your ex-girlfriend, Director Shepard, on a case involving your ex-wife Stephanie."

Gibbs squinted at her. She was lucky he liked her as much as he did. "Not exactly the same thing, Abby. Hollis works for a different agency, Stephanie wasn't a co-worker at all, and Jenny wasn't my partner while she was Director."

"She was back when you were partners," Abby pointed out. "Kind of like Tony and Ziva."

Gibbs opened him mouth to argue, but Abby cut him off. "You were able to continue a professional relationship with her, and with Mann, right? Just like when me and McGee got together. We were in a relationship for the better part of a year, but we worked together every day. Can you think of any situation when that relationship had a negative impact on our work?"

"No," Gibbs answered honestly.

Abby started finding her investigative groove. "When Agent DiNozzo went undercover and accidentally developed feelings for his target, did he or did he not still perform his duties as an employee of the United States Government to the letter?"

"He did," Gibbs agreed, trying to listen to the words Abby was saying instead of reacting to the drama she was trying to create.

"Exactly. In fact, we're surrounded by examples of people breaking Rule 12 without ever experiencing detrimental effects on the professionalism and performance of the workers involved."

Gibbs leaned forward as he prepared to poke holes in her theory. "Jimmy Palmer and Agent Lee." Now _that_ had gone to hell in a handbasket.

Abby didn't see it that way. "Yes! Another great example. They still did their jobs. Okay, they were screwing in the morgue every 20 minutes, but the quality and quantity of their work didn't suffer. Actually, I think Palmer's work improved."

"Agent Lee went rogue," Gibbs pointed out, incredulous.

"Yeah, but that didn't have anything to do with Palmer."

Gibbs sighed. It was clear that Abby wasn't going to let this go.

"So, here's what's going to happen," Abby said boldly, taking advantage of Gibbs' silence. "Sooner or later—and my God, it had better be sooner because it'll save everyone's sanity—Tony and Ziva are going to come clean with each other. Who know how it'll happen." She started daydreaming. "Maybe they'll give in to the tension while they're working alone together late at night. Or Tony'll turn up at her place with a stereo and pull a Lloyd Dobler. Or maybe they'll go undercover again as married assassins—that'd be hot."

When she saw Gibbs roll his eyes, Abby got back on track. "Anyway, once they come clean, they'll either say, _Oh, we can't be together because of Gibbs' stupid rules, _or they'll say, _To hell with Gibbs' rules, take your clothes off now_. And if it is indeed the latter, Gibbs, you're not going to get in the way. Because you would not wear hypocrisy well. It would clash with your dashing silver hair."

Gibbs remained silent. It was beginning to unnerve her, but she pressed on. "And you won't have any reason to get in the way. Because Tony and Ziva are both highly professional people who love their jobs and their co-workers, and they won't bring their personal feelings into the office more than they already do. Okay?"

Gibbs smirked at her no nonsense tone. "How much are your clients paying you to argue their case?"

"They're not. They don't know we're having this conversation."

"But you're obviously the champion of their cause."

Abby looked at him seriously. "It's a cause I believe in. Those two will rock it together, Gibbs."

Gibbs fingered his coffee as he thought it over. It would be easy to dismiss it as just Tony's hormones getting out of control, but it would also be offensive. Yes, Tony had a reputation as a womaniser. But he also had a reputation as an excellent agent. A reputation that he'd earned and deserved. As inappropriate and frustrating as he could be sometimes, Gibbs could always depend on Tony to give 100 per cent of himself to get the job done. But that was part of the problem here. If Tony started something with Ziva, Gibbs knew he'd give _her_ 100 per cent of his effort.

But maybe Gibbs was being selfish. He was Tony's boss and friend, but that didn't give him the right to tell Tony where he should focus his attention. If he wanted to focus on his personal life for a while, Gibbs was not in the position to argue. As long as Tony kept doing his job, the decision was entirely his.

He looked up at Abby. She raised an expectant eyebrow. Gibbs knew he was inviting trouble, but what else could he say?

"Tell your clients, when the time comes, that I still believe in Rule 12."

Abby scowled.

"So they should…rock it…quietly," he said. "And without drawing attention to themselves. Especially _my_ attention. Because I will take issue with anything I see."

Abby began to look hopeful. "So…don't ask, don't tell?"

Gibbs had to smirk. "Yeah."

Abby squealed and hugged him so fast he didn't even see her move. When she untangled herself, Gibbs had to make a final point.

"I mean it, Abs. Encourage them to be discreet."

Abby winked. "I'm an excellent encourager."

***

As soon as Gibbs left, McGee called.

"How'd it go?" he asked without inflection. He was still flat from the night before—probably would be until Monday—but Abby had gotten him interested.

"I've done all I can do, McGee," she said tiredly. "I've counselled Tony, I've planted seeds with Ziva, and I've got Gibbs' word that he'll keep out of it. Now it's up to them. And I swear, McGee. After all my work, Tony better not run away like a scared little girl. Or else he'll have me to deal with."

***

That night, Ziva opened her front door to find Tony in the hall, looking far better than he deserved to after the night they'd had. He was carrying a pizza box, a bottle of wine and a DVD, and smiled at her charmingly.

"Want to hang out?" he asked.

Ziva looked him up and down. Yes, she most certainly did. She opened the door wider in invitation, and Tony raised the pizza box over their heads as he squeezed past her into the apartment. They locked eyes as he passed, shared a knowing smile, then Tony headed for her kitchen. Ziva unashamedly watched his ass as he went. _Well now_, she thought, _this _was_ going to get interesting._

***

**The end! Choose your own adventure from here, people. I hope you enjoyed it.**


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